


Something Inbetweens

by ESawyer



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: 12daysofBOM, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blonde McKinley rights laid ease, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Its the soulmate AU that no one wants but you're all getting anyway, Kevin Price Needs a Hug, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, THE BOOK THING, either way they're happy in the end, ig it could be classified as an open ending, you all know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ESawyer/pseuds/ESawyer
Summary: Connor McKinley hides behind his gloves, until he can’t.
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39
Collections: 12 Days of Book of Mormon (2020)





	Something Inbetweens

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo, day 2 of 12daysofBOM!!! The trope is hurt/comfort ig because we all know I'm a slut for a healthy bit of angst
> 
> (TW:/ for homophobic slurs/past sexual abuse. It's not too bad though, I promise!!)
> 
> Anyway stan short Kevin and blonde McKinley for clear skin

Connor had never found the gloves annoying until he started his mission. 

The fierce heat made his skin itch and crack to the point that it was painful, but he still wasn’t going to take them off. 

Most of the others boys had, whether it be because they’d already got their marks or because they weren’t scared to find out who it was. Connor wasn’t prepared to take that chance, because as much as he wished it did, the therapy  _ didn’t  _ work and he wasn’t going to put himself into the sort of situation where he had to call his parents and beg for their forgiveness for a second time. 

That, and the fact that he was already breaking the rules by not telling the Mission President about the pink marks that had ‘coincidentally’ appeared on both Elder Thomas’ and Elder Church’s hands. The one silver lining was that being stationed in the middle of nowhere meant that the Mission President often forgot about them and Connor had yet to have to lie about them to his face. 

Things might have been easier if it weren’t for the fact that Elder Thomas talked so much with his hands, the pale red mark on his hand moving in a blur whenever he excitedly told Connor about his day with Elder Church, and how he still couldn’t quite believe that he had found his soulmate on his  _ mission  _ of all places. 

He went to bed every night in the same way; his gloves kept neatly on his nightstand so he could pull them on the moment he woke up, and his heart heavy with loneliness. 

* * *

“New missionary day, McKinley!” 

Connor tensed as Zelder clapped him on the back. It didn’t matter that his shirt acted as a barrier between their skin, because he still convinced himself that  _ this  _ would be the moment he was outed to the entire district, and then he’d have no choice but to tell the Mission President. 

“Yep,” Connor muttered, trying to focus on the tea that he was brewing, “One of them is meant to be the best of the best. Elder, um...Elder Price, I think his name is,” 

“Gosh, I hope so,” Zelder sighed, “there’s only so many more doors slamming in my face I can take before I crack,” 

Connor forced a laugh and quickly excused himself, rushing off to hide away in his office before he had to force himself to be a functioning human and meet the new missionaries. 

His tea forgotten about, he sat with head in his hands, fists curling and uncurling his hair as he tried to quell the storm raging in his head. New missionary days had never been fun, but they were even worse on days when Connor wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and not leave again until his life sorted itself out. Sometimes he wanted his soulmate - his  _ male  _ soulmate - to walk into his life and sweep him off his feet. Most of the time, he couldn’t think of anything worse and was more than happy to throw himself into work for the rest of his life and claim he had no time for love. 

He spent the majority of his day hidden in his office, trying to distract himself with the work that he knew he didn’t really care about. He was more than aware that everything in his life was a lie, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about that. He never really let himself think about much outside of his mission unless it was one of those days when his brain wouldn’t  _ shut up.  _

He suffered through almost five hours of pointless work before there was a knock on the door and Elder Thomas quietly told him that the new missionaries were waiting in the living room. 

Connor bit back a groan and took a moment to compose himself before he answered his mission companion. 

“I’ll be right there, Elder!”

The two new missionaries stood a considerable distance apart in the middle of the living room. As always, Connor’s eyes dropped to their hands before even looking at their faces. Only one of them was wearing gloves. 

His welcome died in his throat as his eyes flickered up to meet one of their faces because  _ good lord, it should be illegal for someone to look like that.  _ Elder Price frowned at him as he stuttered his welcome out, well aware that his face was turning bright red. 

“I’m, uh - I’m Elder McKinley, District Leader. Uh, welcome to -” he stuck his hand out, his heart skipping a beat as Price’s gloved hand closed around his, “Welcome to District Nine,”

Connor allowed himself one night of internally screaming at himself for making such a terrible first impression before shutting down any feelings he had about the very specific way Elder Price styled his hair.

* * *

  
  


Elder Price seemed eager to do enough proselytising for the entire District on his own, so Connor let him. Whilst he and Elder Cunningham wallowed in the naïve hope that they might actually achieve something, the rest of the district stayed home. Elder Church was still trying his very best to learn Swahili whilst Elder Michaels and Elder Zelder tried to convince more people to play some ridiculous card game with them.

Connor ignored them for the most part. He stared blankly down at the Book of Mormon that he was pretending to study, only looking up to remind them that tomorrow, they were  _ all  _ going out proselytising because it only took that one spark of interest before they could actually change some minds.

He wasn’t sure anyone believed him, but that was okay, he didn’t believe himself either. The only person who  _ really  _ needed to believe him was the zone leader and although he had told Elder Church that they couldn’t lie on their progress report, he had every intention of doing so. 

“Africa is  _ nothing  _ like The Lion King! That movie took  _ a lot  _ of artistic license!” 

Elder Price’s sudden appearance and subsequent outburst almost resulted in Connor's heart stopping beating, but the way he looked had him jumping to his feet and scrambling to get a tissue out of his pocket. 

“He’s upset because we just saw some guy get shot in the face,” Elder Cunningham supplied helpfully. 

“R-Right in front of us!” Price gasped as he ripped his blood-soaked gloves off and threw them to the floor, “Just like - like he d-didn’t - like the guy didn’t matter!”

“Alright, alright,” Connor said as soothingly as his sudden sky-high anxiety would allow. 

He was weary of Price’s hands - one was gripping onto Elder Schraders’ arm and the other was flailing dangerously as he carried on yelling. Something about how the man had been stood  _ right there  _ and how, for a moment, it looked like the gun was pointing towards  _ him  _ and - 

“I cannot continue my mission this way!” he exclaimed, “There is - there’s  _ nothing  _ I can accomplish here. Nothing that the  _ Lord  _ could accomplish here, I-” 

Connor beginning to dab at the blood on Price’s face seemed to shut him up, giving him the chance to actually speak without his words being drowned out.

“Elder Price, you need to stay  _ calm _ ,” Connor said soothingly, flinching when he snatched the tissue from his hands and threw it to the floor, “We’re being evaluated by the Mission President, and the last thing I need is for our best missionary to-” 

It all happened very quickly; there were hands cradling his face and Price’s nose was inches from his as he yelled about something that Connor could not have cared less about if he tried because there was a peculiar tingling sensation on his cheeks that he had never felt before. 

Price must have felt it too, if the way that he jumped back from Connor as though he had been burned was anything to go by. Dead silence fell across the room; Elder Thomas clapped his hands over his mouth and Elder Neeley averted his eyes, as though he was looking at something utterly shameful. 

“I - I can’t be here,” Price mumbled, face pale beneath all the blood, “I need to - I need to leave,” 

Before Connor could remind him that it was against the rules to leave the hut after 9 PM, he had turned on his heel and ran away, Elder Cunningham very quickly following him. When the door swung shut behind them, Connor sighed and turned back to the rest of the group. 

“They’ll be back, we all struggled to - what? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

No one had moved - Elder Neeley still wasn’t looking at him and everyone else seemed to be giggling about something. Connor narrowed his eyes at them and put his hands on his hips, finding their amusement at Elder Price’s obvious distress quite rude. 

“Hey!” he snapped, “We all struggled when we first came here, and I don’t think that any of  _ you  _ would deal well with someone be murdered in front of you-” 

“Elder McKinley, it’s not that! It’s your face!” Elder Davis exclaimed. 

“I’ve never complained about having to look at your ugly-” 

“It’s what’s  _ on  _ your face, Elder,” Elder Thomas said quietly, “You might want to...You might want to look,” 

Growing increasingly impatient, Connor stomped over to the mirror that hung on their wall and gasped. Two pale red marks sat upon his face, beginning at his jaw and trailing off into his hair. He stared at himself for a moment, his first thought was that he was having some sort of terrible allergic reaction to the new sunscreen that Schrader had bought until he remembered the tingly feeling and the fact that Elder Price hadn’t been wearing any gloves. 

Elder Price hadn’t been wearing any gloves. 

“No, no,  _ no, _ ” he whispered to himself, trying his best to cover them with his own hands, “No. No. No. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening,” 

He turned around to face the others, as though they could offer him some words of wisdom but they never came. Not even from Elder Thomas or Elder Church who could not seem to do much else outside of stare at him with their mouths hanging open. 

“What am I going to tell my parents?” he whispered, “How can I - How can I go home looking like  _ this _ ?” 

“Maybe you could ask someone for some make-up?” Elder Schrader suggested timidly, “I’m sure that, um...what’s that girl called? Nabulungi? Surely she’d lend you some-” 

“Are you stupid?” Connor asked furiously, “You want me to ask  _ Nabulungi  _ for make-up? What makes you think she has make-up that I could wear? Do you think my blonde hair and blue eyes make us look similar? Or is it the fact that I’m so white, everyone always thinks I’m deathly ill?” 

Elder Thomas finally broke away from the group to gently put his hand on his arm. Connor flinched at the touch even though it didn’t matter anymore and all the stupid rules that he had followed so closely his entire life didn’t matter. All those summers wearing long sleeves and jeans and gloves and even scarves on the days when he was particularly paranoid had been for nothing. He was still going to have to call his parents and explain the marks on his face and accept the fact that he was going to be disowned and probably end up on the streets and die a cold, lonely- 

“You should go after him,” Elder Thomas said quietly, “This is a lot. For both of you. The worst thing you can do is deal with it on your own,” 

“I don’t want to - I don’t want to be-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want him or you don’t want to be gay or you don’t want it  _ now,  _ you should go and find him. It’s...well, it’s going to be you two forever now, isn’t it?” 

Connor stared down at his mission companion, his brain struggling to understand what  _ forever  _ meant. Was he expected to grow  _ old  _ with Elder Price? In a house with children and a white picket fence? Would he have to introduce him to his  _ family?  _ To his friends from back home? He couldn’t imagine bringing a  _ boyfriend  _ home to his extremely conservative, extremely religious family and it not ending terribly for all involved. Connor, most of all. And Elder Price too, he supposed. 

“His name, I don’t even - I can’t remember -” 

“Kevin,” Elder Thomas whispered, squeezing his arm, “Please go to him. It’ll make you both feel better,” 

“Yeah, I’ll...um, I’ll...I’ll be back later,” Connor mumbled, stumbling over to the door, “Remember we’re - we’re door knocking tomorrow so don’t - don’t be up too late,” 

He knew that the moment the door swung shut behind him, they would spend the rest of the night discussing exactly what this meant for the District and probably how hilarious it was that Connor would spend the rest of his life with two enormous marks on his face. It might have been easier to deal with if it weren’t for the fact that it was so glaringly obvious that they weren’t birthmarks. 

He found Elder Cunningham before he found Elder Price, standing in the middle of the dirt track with his shoulders slumped and head bowed.

“Elder Cunningham-” 

“He’s going home,” 

"What do you mean? He can’t go home we need to-” 

“He’s gone to the bus stop,” Cunningham told him, voice monotone, “I’d let him go. Dodge a bullet. I’ll see you back at the hut,” 

Wondering how on earth Cunningham could have gone from worshipping the ground Price walked on to seemingly despising him in a matter of minutes, Connor frowned at his retreating back and then set off in the direction of the bus stop. 

He spotted Elder Price soon enough, leant against a tree and furiously scrubbing at the bottom of his shirt. All he seemed to be achieving was smearing the blood even further, but Connor felt like his suggestion to  _ dab  _ rather than rub would not be met with thanks. 

“Elde -  _ Kevin _ ,” Connor said, “We should talk,” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Price said without even looking at him, “There’s nothing to talk about,” 

“The way my face looks might be a good place to start,” 

“I’m not gay. I don’t want to be gay. I don’t want  _ you _ , I don’t want-” 

“And you think I want  _ you? _ ” Connor asked, “Do you think I want this? I’m the one who’s going to be walking around looking like this for the rest of my life! I’m the one who’s going to have to tell the  _ Mission President! _ ” 

Price groaned and finally looked up at Connor, “We aren’t soulmates! I’m not a _fag_ like you!”

Connor scoffed, “You must be  _ something _ like me or your hands wouldn’t look like that!” 

“Just get out of my face, McKinley. I’m going home,” 

“Fine,” Connor mumbled, “Have fun explaining your hands to your parents,” 

“I’m sure I’ll have just as much fun as you explaining your face to yours,” 

Resisting the urge to swear at him or flip him off or kick him or all of the above, Connor turned on his heel and marched away from him. Half hoping that he was going to call him back and apologise, half hoping that he’d never see him again and this day would be remembered as nothing but a bad dream. 

As expected, the others were still in the living room when he walked back into the hut. He paid them no attention, just kicked his shoes off and stormed up the stairs, hoping that the way he slammed the bathroom door shut behind him would convey how he really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to speak to anyone. 

He stood in the darkened bathroom for a moment, fear of turning the light on and having to face his reflection keeping him rooted to the spot. It was curiosity that finally got the better of him; he had never seen any marks up close for longer than a minute, and he had spent much of his childhood dreaming about the moment he got his. 

The light slowly flickered to life as Connor inched towards the mirror, tilting his face this way and that, trying to examine every part of his face. He had not realised that Elder Price’s hands were so...big _.  _ Or maybe he just had a small face. 

The edge of the sink dug into his thighs as he stood on his tiptoes to get even closer, his nose practically touching the cool glass. For some reason, he had always imagined that the marks would be raised off his skin, and not completely flat like they were. He slowly ran his fingers over them, an unwitting smile creeping onto his face as he remembered that tingling feeling as Price touched him for the first time. 

It was at this point that Connor realised he was being ridiculous. Price didn’t  _ want  _ him, and Connor hated the fact that he was going to spend the rest of his life looking like this and that he’d be forever linked to someone like  _ Kevin Price.  _

Mind dissolving into a mush of anxiety at the very thought of Price forever being at the back of his mind, Connor yanked his gloves off and snatched the wash cloth from the sink, running it under the water. It was going to come off. If he didn’t want it, it would come off. He was sure that he’d read stories about marks fading when it didn’t work out, or when something had gone irreversibly wrong. 

He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was raw and bleeding but it didn’t budge. Tears pricking his eyes, Connor yanked open the door of the cupboard, rifling through all the ridiculous hair care and skin care products that had long since become forgotten. 

“Elder - Elder McKinley? Are you in here?” a tentative voice asked.

“Busy!” Connor yelled back, groaning and kicking the wall when he realised his search for bleach was fruitless. 

There was silence for a moment as Connor ran the hot tap, hoping that it would actually warm up enough to do  _ something  _ about the marks on his face. 

“I’m - I’m coming in,” 

“No, you’re-” 

The door swung open, revealing Elder Thomas. His eyes travelled from Connor’s face to the steam that was coming from the tap. 

“Oh,  _ no _ ,” he said firmly, grabbing Connor’s arm and pushing him onto the toilet, “How much have you rubbed your face, dude? You’re bleeding,” 

Connor stayed silent as he watched Elder Thomas turn the tap off and wring out the wash cloth. Every movement seemed to make the mark on his own hand brighter, and it did nothing to make Connor feel better about anything that had happened that night. Before he could control himself, he was sobbing into his hands and beyond embarrassed that he was doing so in front of someone. 

Elder Thomas sighed and crouched down in front of Connor, “Lemme see your face,” 

“No,” Connor mumbled, trying to kick him away, “Go away,” 

“ _ Connor _ . Let me see your face,” 

Sniffling, Connor looked up at him. Without an ounce of judgement, Elder Thomas ran the cloth under the tap again and gently dabbed at his cheeks, quietly apologising when Connor flinched from the sting. 

“What am I gonna do?” Connor whispered, “What am I - What am I going to tell the Mission President? My parents?” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t get rid of these no matter how hard you try,” Elder Thomas said, “and...you’ll just - you’ll have to be honest,” 

“They’re gonna kill me,” 

“The good thing is that you have a soulmate to-” 

“I don’t. He called me a fag. He’s going home,” 

Elder Thomas blinked at him as he slowly stood up, “It’s scary at first. He’ll come around. Jamie did,” 

Connor didn’t think either of them were going to come around to anything anytime soon, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

* * *

Truthfully, Connor stopped thinking about Elder Price the next day. 

He got so caught up in trying to convince the Zone Leader that they didn’t need to be evaluated that how he looked was the last thing on his mind. It was only when Elder Thomas awkwardly told him that they had found Elder Price passed out at the bus stop that he actually remembered his existence. But even that didn’t last long because then  _ Elder Cunningham,  _ of all people, suddenly announced that he had found ten villagers who wanted to convert and Elder Price was again pushed to the back of his mind. 

It was only when there was a panicked knock on the front door at 11 PM that Connor realised maybe he should have paid him a little more attention. It was Gotswanna’s daughter, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet and anxiously wringing her hands together. 

“It is one of your boys,” she said anxiously, “Elder Price. He has - He asked for you,” 

Connor frowned, thankful that he had not yet changed out of his uniform, “M-Me? Where is he?” 

“The hospital. Something awful has happened,” 

She told him nothing, just grabbed his wrist and dragged him all the way to hospital. 

“Something like this was bound to happen, I just did not think - well...he is in a bad way,” she said quietly when they stopped outside of the hospital, “Please, be gentle,”

Growing more and more confused, Connor whispered his promise to be gentle - whatever that meant - and pushed open the door. It was a dimly lit room, with one bed in the middle of it and an X-Ray quietly buzzing in the corner. Connor stared at the X-Ray for a moment, not entirely sure what he was looking at; he had never been very good at science and couldn’t remember what organ was so square. 

He tore his eyes from the X-Ray and down the bed at the sound of a quiet moan of pain. Elder Price was lying on his side, legs bent at an awkward angle as tears dripped down his face. 

A hand on Connor’s back made him jump and he turned around to find Gotswanna looking uncharacteristically solemn. 

“W-What’s going on?” Connor asked quietly, “Why’s he - Why’s he here?” 

Silently, Gotswanna held up a plastic bag holding a bloodied Book of Mormon. Connor frowned at him and looked back over at the X-Ray, everything becoming clear to him. 

“It was the General,” Gotswanna told him quietly as he pointed to a chair next to Kevin’s bed, “I will leave you both alone,” 

Slowly, Connor lowered himself onto the chair as a wave of nausea washed over him. Elder Price showed no sign that he had seen Connor, his eyes focused on a point beneath his chin. Connor looked at him for a moment before looking away, his skin was pale and bloodied and eyes so bloodshot they looked painful. 

“Do you want me to - to call someone?” Connor whispered, “Maybe Elder Cunningham? Or your - your parents? Elde - Kevin, you need to...you need to tell me,” 

Kevin shook his head, the first sign that he was actually aware that Connor was with him. 

“O-Okay,” Connor said, “Would you...Would you like me to stay?” 

He said nothing, just moved his hand from underneath the threadbare blanket and moved it a little. Connor stared down at it, half enraptured by the mark that was the exact same colour as his, and half confused by what that actually meant. His eyes flickered back up to Kevin’s, and this time he was actually looking at him as he moved his hand again. 

“Do you...don’t get angry if I’m wrong but do you...do you want me to hold your hand?” 

The tiniest bit of colour returned to his face as he nodded. Hesitantly, Connor reached over to him and gently placed his hand on top of his. They sat like that, palm to palm, until Kevin slowly bent his fingers and Connor felt like he should do the same. 

“I’ll, um...I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” Connor said. 

Kevin didn’t say anything, but the way he squeezed Connor’s hand said everything for him. 

“Why don’t you - why don’t you try and sleep?” 

Kevin shook his head, hiding his face in his pillows as his shoulders began to shake with sobs. Connor sighed and dared to pull the chair closer to the bed and put his other hand over Kevin’s. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, or indeed  _ why  _ it was happening, but the least he could do was be there for Kevin. As his District Leader and  _ friend _ before anything else. 

* * *

Connor awoke the next morning to his back and shoulders aching and a scribbled note on his lap. 

_ Gone for coffee. See you later. - KP.  _

“For the love of -  _ coffee? _ ” Connor mumbled, pushing himself off the chair. 

Assuming that Gotswanna had left for the day too, Connor loosened his tie and left the hospital, his hands deep in his pockets. He did not allow himself to think about the previous night, how Kevin’s hand seemed to fit so  _ perfectly  _ in his and how he had somehow felt at ease falling asleep to the gentle sound of him breathing. 

Connor walked over to the coffee shop, a place that he and the rest of the missionaries had otherwise ignored. Kimbay was clearing a table full of coffee cups, and Connor had an awful feeling that he knew who had drank them. 

“He left,” Kimbay said, “Your face looks sore,” 

“No, it’s not - those are my marks, I -” 

Kimbay blinked at him, “I know. I meant those cuts on your cheeks,” 

Connor felt his face flush and he unconsciously put his hand to his cheek. Every morning and night since they had appeared, he spent at least half an hour in the bathroom trying to scrub them off his face. Chris said it was unhealthy, Connor didn’t think that he should be allowed to have an opinion. 

“It’s - It’s fine. Do you know where Elder Price-” 

“You might want to go back to your hut,” she said. 

Connor frowned as he left, wishing that someone would give him a straight answer for once. When he finally made it back to the hut, he walked in on a strange sight, to say the least; Elder Michaels, Davis and Schrader seemed to be quietly crying to themselves whilst everyone else looked shell shocked - with the exception of Elder Church who seemed to be laughing. Kevin stood in the very corner of the room, feet turned in at an awkward angle and clutching a cup of coffee like his life depended on it. They made eye contact for a fraction of a second before Kevin looked down at his coffee. 

“Where the  _ heck  _ have you been, McKinley?” Chris exclaimed, punching him in the arm with an obscene amount of strength for someone so short, “The  _ Mission President  _ was here and Cunningham went and got us all ex-communicated!” 

“I -  _ what? _ ” Connor asked, “What do you mean he got us -  _ what? _ ” 

“Cunningham? Care to explain?” Chris asked furiously. 

He did explain, albeit terribly and by the time he had finished, Connor wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. 

“You - You made a new religion?” Connor asked slowly, “And you’re...the Prophet?” 

Cunningham nodded, “Yeah...it was sort of an accident but everyone here does seem a lot happier now! Well, apart from those three over there but I think that’s more out of shock than sadness,” 

“Does the Mission President want to see me or-?” 

“No, he said that since you weren’t anywhere to be seen you obviously don’t care about the Church or God and that if you had any sense you’d walk into a field of starving lions,” Elder Church said brightly before dropping his smile, “Sorry, I’ve - I’ve never really cared about being LDS I’ve been praying for it to implode ever since I got here....” he frowned, “Wait, so does - does that mean God actually exists?” 

“No,” Kevin said, taking everyone by surprise, “He doesn’t. And even if he did, he wouldn’t give a shit about any of us,” 

With one last withering glare, he dropped his empty coffee cup to the floor and limped away, slamming every door as he went. 

“He’s acting strange,” Chris said quietly, “He, uh - He thinks we should all stay here. And follow Cunningham's word,” 

“Which is-?” 

“Frogs cure AIDs,” Church said promptly. 

“Joseph Smith used to - uh -  _ you know  _ \- babies,” Elder Neeley said. 

“Brigham Young’s nose was actually a clit-” 

“ _ Okay! _ ” Connor exclaimed, cutting off Elder Zelder, “I - I get it! I’m just gonna...go and make sure Elder Price is okay.  _ No one  _ is allowed to leave. We need to...sort something out,” 

Too concerned with the haunted look in Kevin’s eyes to try and work out what that  _ something  _ was, Connor brushed passed Elder Church who was quietly giggling to himself and rushed up to Kevin and Cunningham’s bedroom. He paused outside of the door for a moment, hand raised to knock. He wasn’t entirely sure that Kevin would want to speak to him, and even if he did, Connor wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. There had never been a lesson at the MTC about what to do when a fellow missionary had been assaulted by a War Lord. 

“If you wanna speak to me, can you just come in here and get it over with?” a furious voice yelled from the other side of the door. 

Connor jumped and immediately pushed the door open. Kevin was leaning heavily on the desk that had been squashed into the very corner of the room, his face contorted in pain. He glared for a moment before limping over to the tiny window and yanking the curtains shut. Connor stood silently and awkwardly, Kevin barely acknowledged him and he couldn’t work out if it was an invitation to stay or not. 

He watched as Kevin kicked his shoes off and yanked his tie from around his neck, hands hovering above his shirt buttons and eyes flickering up to meet Connor’s. 

“Are you gonna stand there like a donut or actually say something?” 

Connor jumped again, “S-Sorry. I just - I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“What sort of question is that?” Kevin snapped, shuffling over to his closet and yanking the doors open. He stretched up onto his tiptoes, hand scrambling for something on the very top shelf but he fell back onto his feet empty handed with a cry of pain. 

“Let me help,” Connor said quickly, the sudden realisation that he was a good head taller than Kevin making his head spin, “What do you want?” 

“Spare pillows up there,” he mumbled. 

Connor passed them to him with a smile that he thought would be returned. It wasn’t, Kevin snatched the pillows from him without a word and threw them onto his bed. 

“How am I meant to sleep comfortably?” he whispered. It didn’t feel like a question that he expected an answer to, but Connor felt like he had a duty to at least  _ try  _ to help. 

“Maybe - Maybe sleep on your side? With one between your l-legs and one underneath you?” 

Kevin turned to look at him, eyes empty and dried blood still gathered on the corner of his mouth. Connor tried another smile, but that only served to make him look away again and slowly walk over to his bed. 

“I don’t get why you’re here,” he said finally, “I’m not gay. I don’t want to be your boyfriend,” 

Connor frowned, “No, I - I just wanted to...to make sure you’re okay,” 

Kevin frowned back, like he had never heard something so ridiculous in his life. He picked up one of the pillows, hands kneading at the fabric that Connor had always felt was a little too scratchy to be comfortable. 

“For the record, I don’t really want to be your boyfriend, either,” Connor said, “I thought - I thought we could be friends,”

Kevin still didn’t say anything, so Connor accepted the conversation as being over. He offered him a small smile and turned to leave until Kevin spoke very quickly and quietly. 

“Can you stay with me again?” 

Connor stayed silent, his eyes flickering between Kevin and his bed. He could not think of a worse place to sleep than his  _ bed,  _ but was more concerned with upsetting him with his refusal to do so. Kevin caught his eye and flushed, bowing his head a little. 

“I don’t know where you’re gonna sleep, so I - I guess you don’t have to-“ 

“I’ll get that chair,” Connor said quickly, nodding over to the desk, “Like last night,” 

He left to change into his pyjamas, leaving Kevin time to do the same. Chris was already in bed when he got into their bedroom, Elder Church sat at the end of his bed. They both visibly tensed when Connor walked in, like two deer caught in headlights. 

“You can stay,” Connor said, “I’ll be with Kevin,” 

“You got over that quick,” Chris said. 

Connor shook his head, “It’s not like that. I’m just making sure he’s okay,” 

It wasn’t his place to explain exactly why he needed to make sure Kevin was okay, so he didn’t. Thankfully, neither Chris nor Church seemed to care that much and Connor hastened to leave. He didn’t much feel like being the one to interrupt their night-long make out session. He had done that one too many times and was in no rush to do so again. 

When Connor got back to Kevin and Cunningham's bedroom, Cunningham was in the process of getting ready for bed. He stared at Connor for a moment before shrugging and muttering something about how third wheeling was basically second nature to him at this point. 

Kevin was already in bed, one pillow underneath him and another one in between his legs. He didn’t look particularly comfortable, but Connor supposed that was to be expected. Their beds were uncomfortable at the best of times. 

“You don’t need to stay the whole night,” Kevin mumbled, face half hidden in his pillow, “Or - Or at all, really, you can just - go back to bed or-”

“It’s okay,” Connor whispered, sitting down on the chair, “I don’t mind,” 

Kevin’s hand appeared from underneath the blanket and this time, Connor didn’t hesitate in taking it. 

* * *

  
  


It was a strange sort of ritual. They ignored each other during the day, and then Connor would go to Kevin’s bedside and stay the night. Cunningham -  _ Arnold  _ \- seemed okay with the strange new sleeping arrangements - he was always quick to rush downstairs and grab Kevin some water when he woke up from a nightmare, and never pointed out how strange it was that they were  _ soulmates  _ and hadn’t even had a conversation about that yet. 

Chris, on the other hand, was very happy to point that out. 

“You sleep in a chair next to his bed every single night, and then he ignores you! He’s _using_ you,” 

Connor shifted on his bed, trying not to wince too obviously because the pain in his back, neck and shoulders was becoming unbearable. It had been nearly 5 weeks since they had been ex-communicated and in those 5 weeks, Connor had barely slept in his own bed. He didn’t really mind, because Kevin often didn’t sleep and they would stay awake the entire night talking about anything to keep his mind away from the General. Connor learned that Kevin was the eldest of five, his favourite movie was Mulan, he hated milk and wanted to be a Doctor when he was older. Connor never really had anything interesting to tell him outside of the fact that he could do a fantastic Irish accent thanks to both sets of his Grandparents being Irish and was happy to have any job in his life as long as it didn’t bore him. 

“You like him,” 

That feeling of shame that Connor was so familiar washed over him, bringing with it a wave of nausea. He looked away from Chris and down at his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. It was hardly his fault he was feeling so much for someone who he spent so much time with. How could he be expected to keep his feelings platonic when he had listened to Kevin enthusiastically explain exactly  _ why  _ Mulan was the best princess?

“I’m trying not to,” Connor said, “He doesn’t want it. Heck,  _ I  _ barely want it,” 

At the sound of a floorboard creaking, Connor whirled around to face the door. Kevin was standing in the doorway, two cups from the coffee hut in his hands and shock etched upon his face. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I - I wasn’t trying to - I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just - I bought you tea,” 

Without giving him the tea, Kevin turned on his heel and hurried away. Connor groaned and turned to look at Chris who was grinning at him like he’d done him a massive favour. 

“Now you can go and have the conversation you should have done weeks ago,” 

Resisting the urge to murder his mission companion, Connor jumped to his feet and hurried after Kevin. He had left his bedroom door open, a signal that Connor had come to understand meant that he could come in. 

He was sitting on his bed, hands curled around his coffee cup and staring down at the floor. Connor bit his lip and slowly walked around Arnold’s bed and sat down so he was facing Kevin. He nudged him gently with his foot, trying not to act like he had just heard him admit something painfully embarrassing. 

“Hey,” Connor said, because he didn’t know what else to say, “Thanks for the tea,” 

Kevin didn’t look up at him when he replied, “You drink tea more than I drink coffee,” 

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, “You look...I don’t know...” 

“I can’t like you,” Kevin whispered, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t do it,” 

“It’s okay,” Connor said earnestly, “You don’t need to,” 

“You said you like me,” 

Connor swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, “I - I know. I’m sorry. I can’t - I can’t help it, I’m trying to not, I swear,” 

Kevin looked up at him, eyes glassy and bottom lip trembling. Connor really would have liked to reach out and grab his hand like he always did, but he could see him shrinking away from him. 

“I don’t want this. I don’t want  _ us _ ,” he whispered, “I don’t - I don’t wanna speak to you anymore,” 

“Okay,” Connor said quietly, slowly getting to his feet, “I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

That night, Connor pretended not to hear Kevin’s cries at 3 AM. 

* * *

If one good thing had come out of Connor accidentally admitting that he was dangerously close to doing a little more than just  _ liking  _ Kevin, it was that his back pain had almost disappeared. Everything else stayed the same; his parents still hated him (which he was so lovingly informed of via a letter), Kevin was still having nightmares (which he was reminded of at 3 AM every night) and his marks  _ still  _ wouldn’t come off. 

He stood under the shower, face turned up in the hopes that the scorching hot water would cause them to melt away. When that didn’t work, he would scrub at his face until it was red and raw. When that didn’t work, he tried to accept the fact that this was it for the rest of his life. 

It might have been easier if it weren’t for the fact that he and Kevin were forced to live together. 

He felt like Kevin was always watching him. At the dinner table, he would feel eyes boring into him and look up to meet Kevin’s eyes. When he was half-heartedly preaching the Book of Arnold in the village square, he would turn around and Kevin would be  _ there  _ staring at him over the brim of his coffee cup. 

Connor didn’t know what it meant. Or, indeed, if it meant anything. 

Sometimes he was gripped with the urge to go over to him and shake him and demand he tell him what was on his mind, other times he just wanted to go over to him and kiss him. 

Most of the time, he ignored him. 

* * *

Connor was suddenly hyper-aware of couples. Chris seemed unable to leave James’ side for more than thirty seconds, Arnold’s eyes lit up whenever he spoke about Nabulungi and there were  _ definitely  _ two suspect marks on Schrader and Davis’ hands that had not been there at the beginning of the week. 

It was as depressing as it was humiliating. Everyone’s lives seemed to be falling into place and Connor’s was still very much in pieces. 

“I think I’m gonna go to bed early,” Connor muttered to Chris who was practically sat in James’ lap, “See you in the morning,” 

Chris barely looked up at him as he bid him good-night, clearly too distracted by whatever it was that James was whispering in his ear. Wondering how much money he would have to pay Arnold to ban couples, Connor dragged himself upstairs and into his bedroom with the intention to crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend. 

He had every intention of crawling into bed and staying there for the rest of the weekend, only he couldn’t do that because Kevin was in his way. 

“Can we talk?” Kevin asked quietly. 

Connor sighed and yanked his tie from around his neck, throwing it onto his dresser, “Sure,” 

“I’ve missed you,” 

Connor froze in his tracks, slowly turning around to face Kevin, “Missed me?” 

Kevin nodded, “Y-Yeah. Like...at night. I like talking to you. You’re funny and kind and I - I’ve....I’ve missed holding your hand. I just - I dunno why but I want to - I want to be near you. Like that day at the hospital I asked for - I asked for you cause I - there was something in my brain telling me that I needed you and no one - no one else. And these past weeks you’re - you’re all I’ve thought about and I’ve just really wanted you...” 

It would be dishonest for Connor to disagree with anything that Kevin was saying so he stayed silent, instead sitting down besides him. Kevin looked up at him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“And I’ve - I’ve a lot of time to think and I don’t - I don’t know what it means to have a b-boyfriend and I don’t think I’m ready but I’d like you to be a - be a...not a friend but not a boyfriend,” Kevin stumbled over his words, his face heating up the more he spoke, “I w-want us to be...something inbetweens,” 

Connor looked away, staring down at his hands, “I’m not ready for a boyfriend either,” 

“So we can - we can be something inbetweens,” Kevin whispered, “Please?”

Kevin had turned his hand over in the way that he always did when he wanted Connor to hold his hand, wiggling his fingers a little. Connor looked up at him, his eyes were wide and glassy and cheeks wet with tears. 

“I can’t go back to sitting by your bed every night,” Connor said, “It was uncomfortable and I was just so  _ tired  _ all the time and then we never spoke in the day and it  _ hurt _ ,” 

“I know, and I - I don’t want to do that. I don’t want you sitting by my bed every night, I think I’d prefer it if - if you, uh...if you...got in bed with me,” Kevin’s face was bright red now, “cause it seems like...it seems like a nice thing to do with someone,” 

Connor dropped his eyes back down to Kevin’s hand, being in bed with someone else did seem nice. Sometimes he would wake up in the morning to Chris and James wrapped up in each others arms, and he’d feel that awful stab of jealousy. 

“Okay,” Connor said, looking back up at Kevin and taking his hand. 

Kevin’s back straightened up, “You’ll - You’ll be my something inbetween?” 

“Yeah. I’ll be your something inbetween,” 

For the first time ever, Kevin’s face split into a massive grin and Connor swore that he stopped breathing for a moment. 

“Can we - we stay in the same bed, too?” 

Connor laughed and nodded, “Chris is staying in James’ room tonight. We can sleep here,” 

By the time they were actually in bed, Connor had dissolved into a puddle of anxiety. The size of the bed meant that they were lying so close together that their foreheads were practically touching, and it was completely innocent, because he wasn’t entirely sure  _ how  _ to not be innocent, but it still felt wrong. 

Before Connor could say this out loud, a hand on his face shut him up. His eyes flickered up to Kevin’s narrowed ones. 

“I like them,” he said quietly, “Your marks. I think they’re pretty,” he frowned, “I think - I think you’re pretty, too,” 

Connor smiled at him, because he wasn’t sure what he was meant to say. Kevin’s frown deepened, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout. 

“You don’t like them,”

Connor shook his head and felt like the world's worst something inbetween when Kevin’s face fell. He didn’t have the time to apologise for Kevin had leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over Connor’s cheekbone, and he felt that same tingly feeling he had done the first time they touched. 

He pulled back with a shy smile that made Connor’s heart melt and filled him with the courage to return the gesture. Kevin beamed at him, and Connor kissed his cheek again and again and again, terrified of that smile slipping away. 

Kevin squeezed Connor’s hand and looked up at him, “I - I know you don’t like them and you try to scrub them off all the time but if it - if it means anything to you then I like them and I don’t want you to get rid of them. And you’re - you’re hurting yourself trying to scrub them off and I - I don’t like it,” 

Connor didn’t know what else to do, so he leaned forward and kissed his cheek again, whispering against his skin that he’d stop. Kevin giggled and pulled back a little, his thumb gently swiping over Connor’s cheekbone.

“My mom packed a first aid kit for me,” he said, “I think there’s liquid band-aid in there. It’ll help your cheeks,” 

“Your mom packed your bag for you?” 

Kevin scrunched his nose up, “Didn’t yours?” 

Connor couldn’t help it and laughed. The thought of Patricia McKinley doing anything to make her son's life even slightly easier was beyond comprehension. He couldn’t remember the last time she had done anything as simple as pouring him a glass of water. Kevin squeezed his hand to get his attention again, his face falling back into a frown. 

“What?” Kevin asked quietly, “Why’s that - Why’s that funny?” 

Connor shrugged, “My mom and my dad they don’t - they don’t love me anymore. I can’t imagine my mom packing my bag or doing anything for me, that’s all,” 

“Oh,” Kevin said softly, “Oh. I’m - I’m sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” Connor replied, “It isn’t your fault. It’s just - it’s how it is, I guess,” 

He made an unhappy little noise at the back of his throat and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Connor stayed lay on his side, hiding his smile in his pillow when Kevin started to gently play with his fingers, 

“I know they don’t but - but one day, I think I’m gonna love you a lot, Connor,” Kevin whispered, turning his head to look at him. 

He could have started crying, and it was a miracle that he didn’t. Somehow, the prettiest, most handsome boy in the world was in his  _ bed  _ and he was smiling and giggling and whispering the sort of things that Connor had thought he’d never hear. And it still felt wrong, but for the first time, the guilt wasn’t outweighing the joy that was ballooning in his heart. 

“I think I’m gonna love you a lot too,” Connor whispered back. 

Kevin beamed, and suddenly forever didn’t seem so bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I know this was long but I got carried away lol  
> Anyway comments/kudos are appreciated etc etc etc I'm on tumblr if you care etc etc etc


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